


Hiding is Futile

by mycitruspocket



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Prompt Fic, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4268865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycitruspocket/pseuds/mycitruspocket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Sherlock loathes that they keep it a secret. It’s not that he wants Lestrade to kiss him at crime scenes or anything as immature as that - they are both too professional. He just hates that nobody knows that Lestrade is his and that he has to witness people flirting with him without knowing that he’s most assuredly taken."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiding is Futile

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Rupert Graves Birthday Project 2015 Charity Auction - Thank you loryisunabletosupinate for your donation and the prompt, I hope you like your story!
> 
> Thanks to my patient friend Erasmus_Jones for her great beta work and constant motivation!

Sherlock loathes that they keep it a secret. It’s not that he wants Lestrade to kiss him at crime scenes or anything as immature as that - they are both too professional. He just hates that nobody knows that Lestrade is his and that he has to witness people flirting with him without knowing that he’s most assuredly taken. That it’s Sherlock Holmes the handsome Detective Inspector takes home at the end of every day.

He also finds it terribly distracting, now more than it ever has before. Sherlock had thought the fantasy daydreams he’s had of Lestrade had been an annoyance before they got together. He’s assumed that they would stop when they finally give into their mutual desire. Now, not only does he have to contend with fantasy, he has actual memories, which he’s found - much to his chagrin - are even harder to ignore. It also doesn’t help that Lestrade has taken to _ignoring_ him whenever his team are nearby. Sherlock knows why Lestrade does it, he isn’t quite as oblivious as people seem to assume. He knows Lestrade thinks no one will suspect anything if he acts so nonchalantly and seems to believe that completely avoiding Sherlock is the best way to hide their quickly developing relationship. Sherlock has no idea why they are hiding it though, they’ve never talked about it and Sherlock doesn’t have any experience to glean information from. He doesn’t dare ask Lestrade, and there’s no one else he will even consider asking as it would mean admitting there is knowledge he doesn’t have.

When on a case together, Lestrade doesn’t look at him as much as he used to. There are no more stolen glances, small smiles or accidental touches. He has also stopped praising Sherlock as much as he used to when his colleagues are present, and Sherlock hates all of it and wants the attention back desperately. What Sherlock doesn’t want, is to lose the feeling of Lestrade’s lips on his own as soon as they are hidden behind a closed door that shields them from the outside world. Sometimes it’s his bedroom door and sometimes Lestrade’s front door of his flat or even his office door; but it’s always a door they hide behind.

Today it’s almost unbearable. It’s a humid, hot summer’s day and Lestrade has taken off his jacket. He’s rolled up his shirt sleeves and he’s signing some papers a young constable is holding out for him. She smiles at him and because Lestrade can’t help but be nice and polite, he smiles back. Sherlock knows it’s jealousy that makes him feel sick. He also knows that it’s childish, because the smile he’s going to get from Lestrade when he’s spread out naked on his bed in a few hours’ time will be so much better. Despite the fact that no one else will see it.

Anderson is clearing his throat beside him, fiddling with several evidence bags in his hands, and Sherlock snaps back to reality.

“Look, if these are nothing just tell me, all right, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Sherlock looks at him for a moment, remembering that he’s actually here to work and the case isn’t even that boring.

“Show me again.”

Anderson does, patiently but insecure, and Sherlock actually listens. In the end he still has to tell him that his evidence is indeed most likely nothing and he even feels almost sorry for him. This too is new, like the kissing behind closed doors. He finds that listening to Anderson is not nearly as wearisome as snapping and yelling at him, and maybe Lestrade has seen him demonstrating his newly discovered 'almost' patience and will praise him for it later.

*

Greg chews on his pen, a habit that has become much worse since he had to start physically restrain himself from looking at Sherlock all the time. It has been bad enough when he was just loving him from afar, but when he looks at him now, he knows what Sherlock’s creamy skin feels like, knows how Sherlock’s hands feel on him, and he has to look away because he’s bloody working and people will notice.

The autumn air is warm and Sherlock takes off his scarf, then kneels down dramatically to examine the tires of their victim’s car. Greg still doesn’t stop looking, he's far enough away for anyone to notice and thinks about how for the last three months, Sherlock has spent most nights in his bed and how he still can’t believe he’s not dreaming. He hasn’t told anyone, mainly because he never thought it would last and Sherlock would get bored within a few weeks. Sherlock hasn’t got bored, could even be called clingy when they are at home, and Greg enjoys it immensely - but still hasn’t told anyone. He hasn’t even talked to Sherlock about it. It simply is what it is, it feels so good and he’s afraid talking about it would probably change all of that, and not for the better.

He jumps when his pen is yanked from between his lips and finds Sally looking at him expectantly.

“Have you read those statements yet?” She gestures at the folder in his hand and he has to admit that no, he hasn’t read them, but he’ll rectify that immediately.

“Right, just tell me if you want to call any of them in for further questioning.” Sally says as she gives him back his pen.

“Sure, yes. Um, where did you get that coffee?” He asks, pointing at the steaming paper cup in her hands and looks around to see if there’s a coffee place nearby. He’s a little disappointed when he doesn’t see one.

“Sherlock said I’d be more bearable with a good cup of coffee in the morning.” She grimaces, and then adds, “Well, I won’t complain as long as he brings me free coffee.” 

“Nor would I.” Greg looks back at Sherlock, who’s now sniffing inside the trunk of the car. Sherlock trying to be nice to the team is definitely something that changed for the better, and it’s something he encourages. It’s only that he always leaves Greg out of his efforts entirely, which makes Greg think that he only does it to draw the attention away from how close the two of them have really become. It worries him how much effort Sherlock seems to put into it, how keen he obviously is to hide their relationship.

Greg turns his back to Sherlock before he or anyone else catches him staring and opens the folder. Trying to hide everything just makes acting normal fucking difficult, he doesn’t even know what normal is anymore.

*

New Year comes and goes and nothing changes. Everything is perfect, except it’s not enough. There are still doors and little words, but also sweet shared breathes and very few lonely nights. Sherlock knows he has to do something because talking about it – whatever _it_ is – is just not their thing. And because he’s Sherlock, this _something_ involves drama and chaos.

First there’s a chase, than a fight and suddenly a gun. Before Sherlock can think about how stupid what he’s about to do is – because Lestrade is wearing a bullet proof vest and he isn’t – he jumps to shield Lestrade just in time and his arm starts throbbing painfully before he even hits the ground.

There is one more shot and then the sounds of bodies wrestling nearby before everything comes back into focus. He can hear Lestrade’s familiar voice calling his name and something about an ambulance. Lestrade sounds broken and demanding, and then he falls to his knees beside him, hands roaming all over Sherlock’s body to carefully check for injuries.

“Why, Sherlock? Fuck, you could’ve…” Lestrade’s voice is trembling, breaks, and when he doesn’t find any other wounds except the one where the bullet has grazed Sherlock’s left arm, he chokes out a sigh of relief.

Sherlock sits up to check on his arm as well, the bleeding flesh wound looks nasty but will heal soon enough and Lestrade is already applying pressure to it with his own scarf. He looks at Lestrade’s face, doesn’t like the pain and the panic in his eyes, and for once he acts instinctively, not thinking over his words or his actions.

“You know why, and would have done the same.” He gives Lestrade a chaste, shy kiss on the cheek, out in the open for the gawping crowd around them to see.

Lestrade doesn’t even look all that surprised, the muscles of his face relaxing into an unbearably fond half smile. “Yeah I know, and definitely would’ve done the same.” Lestrade presses his lips against Sherlock’s temple, holds him close and they wait like that until the ambulance arrives.

*

Greg is on leave for a few days after the shooting, but he still goes in to write the report and stays late to wrap up the case’s paperwork the following evening. He loves working late, the office is nice and quiet, no disruptions – it’s not the first time he’s been the last to leave. He gathers up his things, ready to go home and check on Sherlock. When he stands up, he sees Sherlock standing in the doorway.

“Hey, you’re supposed to be resting! Knew you wouldn’t listen to me, should’ve stayed home with you.”

“I rested all day and I’ve already told you I’m fine.” Sherlock closes the door behind him instinctively, and when Greg steps closer they somehow end up kissing slowly with Sherlock leaning with his back against the cold wood. “I was bored without you.”

“You could’ve texted me, I’d have come home.”

“I did! You forgot to charge your phone – again.”

“Ah bugger, sorry. But you do know I have a phone here in my office?”

“Doesn’t matter, wanted to see you.” Sherlock buries his face in Greg’s neck and breathes in and out, and Greg shivers when his nose brushes the spot behind his ear.

“Come on, let’s go home, sunshine.” He hugs Sherlock close, reaches around to open the door and leads him out into the open plan office. Sherlock doesn’t let go of him, is as clingy as he is at home sometimes and pushes him against the next wall, nuzzling his ear.

“I don’t want to wait until we are back home, need you now.” Sherlock growls and Greg’s resolve is crumbling. He wants to protest but Sherlock is kissing him again, hungrily like he’s starving, and Greg is so happy that Sherlock is alive and fine and here in his arms, that he forgets where they are and kisses back.

They pull apart a few inches when they both hear the sound of someone clearing their throat from the other end of the office, only springing apart in panic when they see Sally watching them from behind her monitor. Other than the faint glow of the monitor illuminating her face, the rest of the office but dark, there’s enough light for them to see the arch in her eyebrow as she waits for them to speak.

“Um, we were ah… Just finishing up the reports and…” Greg stumbles over his words while Sherlock stands frozen in shock beside him.

“Yes,” Sally interrupts, “Sure.”

“This is not what it looks like, Sally, we…” Greg realises how stupid he sounds and clamps his lips shut while he massages the back of his neck with his hand. Apparently getting caught in the act like a teenager, means that your brain falls back on an idiotic worn out phrase that’s been used by countless people in similar situations.

“Oh come on, Boss, you’re going with that? Really?” She looks at him, and he can see the disappointment on her face before she replies deadpanned, “July last year.”

“What?” Greg and Sherlock blurt out simultaneously.

“July last year. When the two of you got together.” When they continue to just stare at her, she sighs. “Detective,” Sally says and points at herself, then points at the ceiling, circles her finger and adds, “Scotland Yard. Everyone knows, you tried so hard to hide it that it was kind of obvious, even Anderson noticed. Now get the fuck out of here and let me work, I’ve heard more than I need to often enough.” There’s no mistaking the fondness in her tone and the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Greg smiles back gratefully, grabs the boggled Sherlock by his good arm and pulls him away.

“No more hiding from now on, got that?” He’s so relieved when Sherlock nods frantically that he kisses him messily while they wait for the elevator, knowing full well they are well within view of the surveillance camera at the end of the corridor and doesn’t care one little bit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt from loryisunabletosupinate: _"Sherstrade where Sherlock and Lestrade are trying to hide that they’re together and having sex, but it’s so obvious to everyone, but everyone thinks it’s sweet so they play along."_


End file.
